I'm German, You're Jewish
by Cardio Necrosis
Summary: “We do not have a song, and we never will have a song!” Kyle shouted. “The only line in this song that has anything to do with us is ‘you’re Jewish.’ Maybe if the song were called ‘I’m a racist sadistic fatboy and you’re Jewish and hate me’ I'd agree!"


**Disclaimer: I do not own _South Park_. If I did, I probably wouldn't write fic about it.**

**Author's Note: Right, well, the title for my fic comes from the song 'German, Jewish' by _Ghost of the Robot. _This is not a songfic. I do not have the lyrics in this story at all. You do not need to have heard the song in order to understand the story, but it might make just a smidgen more sense if you do. Or at least look up the lyrics. There are plenty of references to the band and song throughout this fic, so . . . just warnin' y'all.**

* * *

German, Jewish

"GUYS! OH MY GOD, GUYS! OH MY GOD!" Cartman yelled enthusiastically as he ran (or rather, wobbled quickly) towards them. When he reached them at the bus stop, he wheezed, put his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. "Guys . . . Oh my god, this is . . . the coolest . . . thing . . ."

Kyle rolled his eyes and shared a look with Stan. They already knew what he was freaking out about.

He looked at the two of them. "Where's Kenny?" he asked breathily.

"Oh, he died," Stan announced.

Cartman looked taken aback. "Really?" Both Kyle and Stan nodded. "Huh. That hasn't happened for awhile. Well, I'm not taking notes for that poor piece of trash. One of you guys can do it."

Stan and Kyle just looked at each other again and rolled their eyes, as Cartman still wheezed.

After the tub of lard managed to catch his breath, he stood up straighter and practically shoved a CD case in their faces, smiling proudly, as if he were showing them the coolest thing in existence. "And here it is, _my_ CD,_ the coolest_ CD, the best band ever, and it's _mine_ so ha hah heh ha haha I got something you guys don't nyah nyah nyah nya nyah-nah!" He did an odd penguin-like shuffling dance thing that really grated on Kyle's nerves.

"So?" Kyle asked a few seconds into the dance.

Cartman froze in the middle of a dance move. He blinked a few times, then stared at Kyle. "Wh-what?"

Kyle stared at him. "So?" he repeated.

For a second it looked like Cartman hadn't understood what Kyle had said. Then he shook his head. "I'm sorry Kahl, but it sounded like you said 'so.'"

"That's because I did, fat-ass."

"S-so? What do you me--how could you--I have been looking for this CD for a whole week! I drove to _Denver_ Kahl and it still wasn't there!"

"Yeah, dude, we know," Stan said calmly. "You told everyone you had leukaemia and put those little charity jars in all the stores to raise money for it, remember? That's pretty screwed up, dude."

"Well it's not my fault Kahl wouldn't lend me some of his Jew gold. Like you really need all that money anyway," he muttered with a scowl in his direction.

"No, but it _is_ you fault the entire town thought _we_ did _your_ scam and made us pay all the money back to every kid with leukaemia in the state," Kyle ground out through his teeth.

"Which you didn't even do," Stan reminded.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "And that all would've been avoided if Kahl had given me some of his money."

"Couldn't you have asked your mom?" Kyle snapped.

Cartman scoffed and shook his head as he took his place at the bus stop. "Screw you guys, I'm listening to mah new CD." He pulled out a red walkman and, as slowly and attention-getting as possible, put the CD into is walkman.

Kyle rolled his eyes, and turned to Stan, finishing up the conversation they'd been having before Cartman showed up.

* * *

Kyle was quickly scribbling down the notes Garrison had managed to put on the board between his lecture about why he avoided watch the Oscars and why he thought 'I Kissed A Girl' was going to be a one hit wonder and that Katy Perry was going to spiral into has-been-ism in less than two years. Personally, Kyle really couldn't care less about who won what award and why that pissed Garrison off, or what songs were popular and how long his teacher thought they would remain that way.

Now, though, he was talking about how sexual harassment was portrayed on television, and why he felt it was so important. Kyle wouldn't have cared, except he promised there would be a test next week about sex in pop culture. Kyle sighed and shook his head. This was where his elementary school education was going? Pop culture and actresses with serious "diva-tudes?" He could only hope that fifth grade would get better.

Mister Garrison started writing on the chalk board, Kyle wincing every time it squeaked loudly. He doubted Kenny even cared about school enough to _want_ notes.

"So, you see, children, what's important isn't the attempted rape, but how she _reacts _to it. Now, how do you think the audience _should_ have reacted to what happened that episode?"

Cartman started laughing hysterically.

The chalk squeaked as Garrison's hand lost muscle control and slowly dropped, leaving one long, white stripe down the blackboard. He slowly turned his eyes onto Cartman, mouth open, blinking slowly.

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds of Cartman nearly having an epileptic fit because he was laughing so hard. He too turned to face the fat asshole that he hated, his heart plunging into his stomach. He was a jerk (which was putting it nicely) but to laugh at _that?_ Then again, Kyle should have learned that nothing was beyond Cartman.

For what seemed like forever, everybody just stared as Cartman continued to laugh loudly, clutching his stomach as his chins wobbled and his stomach bounced. Nobody said a word, probably because they were too shocked, as he started slamming his podgy hand on the desk and kicking his feet. Despite the fact his laughter was completely inappropriate, Kyle had to admit that he did have a nice laugh.

He shook that thought out of his head immediately.

"Eric!" Garrison finally shouted, throwing his chalk to the floor. Cartman continued laughing. "Dammit, Eric, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Cartman, stop laughing," Stan tried to whisper warningly, as if the damage hadn't already been done.

"Eric! I demand an explanation for this!"

"Dude seriously knock it off," Stan murmured loudly.

And still, he kept laughing. Kyle couldn't figure out why the hell he wouldn't shut up, but that was when he noticed that he had earphones in his ears. The wires were hidden underneath his shirt, but if he looked, it was obvious he was still listening to his walkman. Kyle couldn't help but smirk. Cartman was going to get in trouble, not only because he laughed at an extremely inappropriate time, but because he was listening to his walkman, and that was against school rules.

"ERIC!" Garrison shouted, and stomped his foot.

In a split second, Cartman's face sobered immediately into something more appropriate for a funeral. "Yes, Mister Garrison?"

"Just _what_ about attempted rape do you find funny?" he demanded.

Cartman gaped at the chalk board, apparently seeing the words 'attempted rape--bathroom' for the first time. Kyle smirked. There was absolutely no way he was going to get out of this. Finally, Cartman was going to get a good smack of karma. Kyle had to bite on his tongue to stop himself from chuckling.

After blinking rapidly a few times, he cleared his throat. "Well, uh . . . you see, Mister Garrison . . ." He looked around the classroom, as if begging someone to help him. All of the class was staring at him with disgust. He looked at Stan pleadingly, who just shrugged. He couldn't tell Garrison he was listening to his CD, because that was against school policy, and Kyle knew Cartman would do anything to stop himself from getting in trouble.

He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "Well, you see . . . It was . . ." He looked at the chalk board. ". . . in a bathroom, and that reminded me . . . of the time . . . I, uh . . . took a huge dump." Garrison blinked and tilted his head. "Yeah! And, uh . . . It was so big, I couldn't get it to flush without, y'know . . . breakin' it up, and one half of it looked like . . . Al Gore."

Kyle's smirk melted into a frown. No way.

Mister Garrison blinked. "Oh. Right then. Well, now that we've got _that_ over and done with, let's continue on with the lesson, shall we?"

* * *

The three boys sat at the lunch table, plucking at their food. Kyle glared at Cartman, still pissed off at the fact he hadn't gotten in trouble over something he should have, yet again. He hadn't been chased through town by a mob of angry citizens because of his stupid scam. In fact, he had gotten away with it completely, thanks to the fact he'd stamped Kyle's number and a Photoshop edited picture of him being bald on all of the charity jars. So as he was taking the money, putting it into an account, and finding someplace online to buy his stupid CD, Kyle and Stan were giving up their allowances to all the kids in the state with cancer. And now, when he should have been sent to the principal's office (either because of the laughing or because he was listening to his walkman, Kyle really didn't care) instead he got away with it. Like always.

"I can't believe you laughed in class, dude. You know, it's really not funny."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't laughing at _that._ I was laughing at this completely awesome song on my CD."

"What was so funny about it?" Kyle asked, stabbing his indeterminable meat with his fork. Ever since Chef had died, he hadn't had a decent school lunch.

"Well, funny you should ask, Kahl," Cartman sneered, his blue eyes catching Kyle's. Kyle felt his stomach swoop for some stupid reason. It had been happening quite a bit lately. Maybe he had the stomach flu or something. "But there's a song on this CD about someone yanking that Anne Frank bitch out from behind her bookshelf and burning her money grubbing Jew ass in an oven."

Kyle dropped his fork. "What?"

"Aw, come on man, that's not cool," Stan muttered.

"They sing a song about WHAT?" Kyle practically shrieked.

Cartman smirked smugly. "Oh, did I not speak loud enough? What I said, dear Kahl, was they sing a song about Anne Frank getting her big-nosed Jewish family ripped out of their hiding place, and stuffed in an oven to die."

"What? No they don't dude," Stan stated, looking Cartman over with one brow raised. "Don't you even _listen_ to the lyrics?"

Cartman blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Shelley has that same CD." Cartman blinked slowly at him. "She likes the lead guitarist," he added as by way of explanation, when he realized Kyle was looking at him too.

"Then you know the song," Cartman stated, although his voice was wavering, a sure sign that he wasn't as confident as he wanted to come off as.

"Yeah, I do, and that's not what it's about."

Kyle personally had never even heard of the band, and at the moment couldn't even remember the name, but still he couldn't help but smirk at Cartman. He just loved it when the fat ass was proved wrong. After a few seconds of Cartman just staring between them, as if waiting for them to admit they were lying, he picked up his tray and went to a different table, muttering something.

Kyle watched as he went and sat by Butters, and couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He watched as Butters smiled happily when Cartman sat at his table, and Kyle scowled, looking back at his lunch. Why should he care if Cartman sat somewhere else? He didn't even like him.

* * *

As rare as it was, Mister Garrison was actually teaching them something important at the moment. He was going over long division in a bored tone, writing down equations on the board for them to figure out. Kyle looked around the classroom for Kenny, but he still hadn't shown up. It had been awhile since the last time he died, and he couldn't really remember how long his deaths usually lasted. Well there was that once he was dead for like a really long time, and he hoped that it wouldn't be like that that today. He really didn't like taking double notes.

About halfway through the lesson, Cartman plugged his earbuds in and turned on his CD player. Why Kyle kept staring at him and making a mental note of everything he did was beyond him, but he couldn't help doing it. For the past few weeks, it seemed Kyle couldn't help but watch Cartman and everything he did. Sometimes, Kyle even found himself wondering what Cartman was doing when he wasn't around. He figured it was natural to want to know what his enemy was doing, though, so he didn't really pay it any mind.

Since Garrison was facing the chalkboard, Cartman could pull his walkman out from one of his large pockets in his coat, and start skipping tracks. Kyle knew he was skipping to the song that was supposedly about killing Anne Frank.

Cartman's blue eyes met Kyle's and he felt that weird falling sensation in his stomach that seemed to crop up whenever Cartman looked at him. His chest felt tight and his throat dried. He figured that all that had to do with that flu he had. He really probably should go to the doctor. Cartman quickly looked away and Kyle tried to focus on writing his notes, but he couldn't stop himself from glancing at his fat 'friend.'

Cartman's face was a sickly shade of grey and green. He stared blankly ahead, kinda resembling a zombie. He dry heaved in his seat, then covered his mouth. Just as Kyle was starting to wonder what the hell was wrong with him, Cartman hopped out of his seat and bolted out of the classroom.

Everybody stared at the door for a few seconds. Garrison let out a long sigh. "Well thank _God_ the little bastard left. Anyway, so we see how many times three can go into nine . . ."

* * *

"Uh, f-fellas?" Butters greeted, mashing his little fists together.

Stan closed his locker door after he put his book in it. "What is it, Butters?"

He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "I think somethin's wrong with Eric. I went in there to-to tinkle, and he was in there, and he didn't look very good. And when I asked him what was wrong, he muttered something about Kyle an-and then he yelled at me and called me stupid." He looked downwards and pouted, acting ashamed or like he'd been seriously hurt by the incident.

Kyle and Stan looked at each other. Kyle wondered why Cartman would be talking about him in the first place and wondered if he might have somehow hurt the tub of lard's feelings, and it bothered him. Stan sighed and rolled his eyes, jerking his head towards the bathroom, gesturing that Kyle should follow. "Come on. We should probably check on him."

"He's probably just upset because you were right about the song," Kyle groused.

They slowly pushed open the bathroom door, Kyle vaguely aware that Butters was following him. As they walked in, Kyle bounced off of Cartman's chest because he had been walking out.

"Aye! Watch where you're going, you--" Cartman looked at Kyle and his eyes widened, as if he just realized who he had bumped into. His face suddenly lost all colour. He turned around, ran into the first stall, and Kyle winced when he heard the unpleasant sounds of retching.

It was obvious that seeing Kyle had somehow made him ill. That, for some reason, really pissed him off. "Fat ass!" he insulted shrilly, turned around, and stomped out of the bathroom.

He was halfway down the hall when Stan grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn around. He glared at his best friend, not really all that pleased he'd stopped him from storming off. Butters was standing next to Stan, his lips pursed and his brows furrowed. Instead of looking angry, though, he just looked adorably irritated. "Well, now, that wasn't very nice, Kyle," he reprimanded.

"Butters is right. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with--? Stan, he took one look at me and had to puke!"

Stan blinked a few times. "So? Why does that bug you?"

"Huh?" Kyle literally didn't understand why Stan wouldn't get it.

"Why do you let Cartman bug you so much? I mean, yeah, he's an asshole, but we already knew that."

"Well, that's not a very nice thing to say about your friend," Butters stated plainly.

They both ignored him. "Why do you think, Stan?" he retaliated, simply because he really didn't know what else there was to say.

"I don't know what to think. You let him get to you so easily. And yeah, he deserves it most of the time, but . . . Well, he had to puke and it bugs you that maybe he puked because of you? It's not like he called you any names. And we're not even sure that's why he was puking. Maybe he's just sick."

"Aww, I got some puke on me. I better go wash this off before I get grounded," Butters mumbled, then sauntered off towards the bathroom. Kyle watched him for a second as he pushed open the door and walked in. "Uh, Eric? Are you okay in there?"

"SHUT UP BUTTERS I'M FI--" The sentence was drowned out with more retching.

Kyle shook his head and looked back at Stan with every intention of telling him why Cartman puking at the sight of him bugged him so much, but he really didn't know. So instead he just shrugged. "I don't know. But . . . I guess you're probably right. I mean, it would make sense. I haven't been feeling too good either and it's always when I'm around him, so . . ."

"What?" Stan blinked rapidly.

"Oh, it's nothing. I think I just have the stomach flu or something. And I probably got it from him, because when he's around my stomach feels funny and it's kinda hard to breathe. It makes sense now, I guess. You're probably right; he's just sick."

Stan stared at Kyle funnily. He was oddly quiet and he was looking him over slowly. "Wait . . . you feel like you're gonna throw up when . . . _Cartman's_ around?"

"Yeah. So?"

Stan shook his head. "Yeah, yeah . . . You probably just have the stomach flu or something. Dude, that sucks." For some reason that made Stan smile. Kyle really didn't know why, and he didn't like it, either.

* * *

Kyle lied on his bed, going over his notes for the day and talking on the phone with Stan. He had to make sure that they were all well-written and descriptive, seeing as Kenny had been dead all day long. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. As much as taking extra notes had been a hassle, it really hadn't been all that bad. Still, he hoped Kenny would be back tomorrow.

"What was Kenny talking to you about anyway?" Stan asked.

"Huh?"

"You know, before that helicopter crashed and the blades cut off his head. He was talking to you."

Kyle nodded. "Oh, right. Oh, he wasn't saying anything important. I was just complaining about the fat ass 'cause I knew he was probably gonna get that CD in the mail today, and I _knew_ he was going to talk about it non-stop. He was just asking me why I always talked about Cartman and stuff, and he was like 'do you think maybe--' but then the helicopter killed him." Kyle shook his head. "They really shouldn't let pilots drink before they fly."

"Well it's the flight school's fault. I mean, who in their right mind gives Christian Slater a pilot's license?"

Kyle thought for a moment. "Well, you've got a point there."

"You ever notice how many times Kenny dies right before he's about to say something important?"

Kyle finished reading the sentence on the page of notes before he responded. "You think he was going to say something important?"

BAM! The door flung open, and Cartman ran into the room, his large chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths. "Kahl! Oh my God, Kahl!"

"God dammit Cartman!" he yelled after he jumped about a foot in the air.

"Cartman's there?"

"Yeah," he grumbled, ignoring the fact his heart really should have slowed its pace by now. Yeah, Cartman had shocked him, but not _that_ much. "I gotta go."

"Yeah, cool. Talk to ya later."

"'Kay, bye."

Kyle hung up and glared at his gleaming friend, whose jowls wiggled as he grinned happily, his blue eyes shining merrily. It was quite a difference from the pallid, sickly expression he'd had the entire way home on the bus. According to Butters, Cartman had put that stupid song on repeat and listened to it the entire ride home.

"Oh my God, Kahl, guess what?"

Kyle got off of his bed and walked over to his door, shutting it. "What?"

"I've found our song."

Kyle turned towards Cartman, watching as (without asking permission) he put a CD in Kyle's CD player. "You've found our _what?"_

Cartman glanced over his shoulder, staring at Kyle innocently, as though that was something completely normal for him to say to someone whose life he had made a living hell. "Our song."

Kyle scoffed. "You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm so for seriouslah, this is our song. Just listen to the--"

He balled his hands into fist and stomped his foot. "I'm not listening to you stupid song!" he spat through clenched teeth.

"It's not _stupid,"_ Cartman said, pouting a little.

"It's just some stupid song from a stupid, obscure band that nobody's ever heard of," Kyle pressed, beyond annoyed at this point.

"Oh, come on, so many people listen to this band. It has that guy in it." Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, that guy. On that one show." Kyle couldn't do anything but blink slowly at him. He had no idea what he was talking about. Cartman huffed angrily. "It's not my fault Jews don't watch good television.'

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. "Get out of my room, Cartman," he demanded.

"But _Kyyyylllle_ I want you to listen to mah _sooooooonng,"_ he whined in that annoyingly high pitched voice he used on his mother.

Sighing, Kyle folded his arms and looked heavenward. There was no way that any song could ever describe any sort of relationship he may or may not have with Cartman. He just couldn't think of any way that any song could describe any one person's relationship to another, anyway. People, and therefore the relationships they kept, were far too complicated for it to be perfectly boiled down and described in a three-minute long song meant to appeal to hundreds of people. He could understand if a certain song played during an important part of someone's life, then yeah, it made sense because of auditory stimulation and memories, but it was still stupid. He'd never really jumped onto the whole 'but it's our song' bullshit that his mother pulled with his dad, or Wendy pulled with Stan. And why Cartman thought that even if 'having a song' made any sort of sense for anyone that _they_ would have one was beyond his comprehension.

Cartman pressed play, and the song filled his room. Kyle clenched his teeth and kept his arms folded tightly throughout the entire song, listening carefully to the lyrics. The song was catchy and upbeat, and to be honest, Kyle really had no idea how Cartman had misinterpreted it into thinking it was about killing Anne Frank, because it wasn't like the singer mumbled when he sang. The words really weren't all that hard to hear. Maybe Cartman was just deaf as well as retarded, and his own anti-Semitic opinions probably twisted the lyrics in his own mind to mean something else.

When the song finally ended, Kyle stared at Cartman incredulously. The fat boy's eyes were wide and sparkling, his grin huge, and Kyle just couldn't do anything but blink at him.

"You are _fucking_ retarded."

His hopeful face fell. "Wh-what do you mean? This is our song!"

"We do not have a song, Cartman, and even if we did, this wouldn't be it!" he shouted, uncrossing his arms as he stomped his feet. Cartman blinked several times and shook his head slowly, apparently taken aback. "The only line in this song that has anything to do with us is 'you're Jewish.' Maybe if the song were called 'I'm a racist sadistic asshole and you're Jewish and hate me' then yeah, I could agree, but that's _not even what the song is about!"_

"But . . . But I _am_ German!"

"No, you're not."

"Yes huh, I so am. My great-great grandpa was like a quarter German so that means I'm German and you're Jewish. Don't you see? It all makes sense now!"

"Okay, _fine_ if you want to count that, whatever, but it still doesn't make sense! I mean, you're not a small rock star and I'm not an actress!"

Cartman rolled his eyes slowly. "Are we forgetting Faith + 1 Kahl? I won plati--"

"You won myrrh," Kyle gritted through his teeth.

"--num so I am a small rock star, and you were in a play and you _acted_ in it." He smirked, as if that settled everything.

"I'm a _boy_ Cartman. Even if I did act in a few plays, I'm not a _girl_ so I can't be an actress."

Cartman waved his hand dismissively. "It's just Semitics, Kahl. Seriouslah."

"I think you mean semantics."

Cartman stared at him like he was retarded, then shook his head. "Whatevah."

"Okay, so even _if_ that's true, nothing else about the song is. If we lived in Nazi Germany and there were Jews hiding behind an old bookshelf, would you tell Hitler?"

"Well of _course_ I would Kahl. They're a dirty Jews and Hitler is fucking awesome. But, there was th--"

Kyle clenched his teeth angrily. "Get out of my house, Cartman."

"But _Kyyyylllle_ you're not _liiiissteeennnniiing_ to _meeeee!"_

"I've had enough of this. We do not have a song, and we never will have a song, and definitely not _this_ song because you're an anti-Semitic sociopath."

"God dammit Kahl listen to me!" he yelled as he stomped his feet like he was throwing a tantrum. "We don't live in Nazi Germany so that's a stupid question, _but_ aren't you forgetting the time that _I_ hid helpless kitties in mah attic?"

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. Although Cartman was a complete selfish asshole who only did things for his own personal gain, or to get back at someone for something, there had been a few times he'd shown his kinder side. Kyle had to admit that when he found out Cartman had been hiding all those cats in his attic he'd been impressed. Sometimes Kyle thought about that for no reason at all and it made him smile, but he didn't really know why.

"I thought you said you didn't see any parallel between that and anything that could have happened in history," Kyle pointed out irritably.

Cartman stared at him for a few moments, then blinked. "Why, Kahl, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he said sweetly, too innocently for it to have any ounce of truth in it. "None whatsoever."

"Okay, fine, whatever," Kyle muttered, waving his hands into the air, giving in the slightest bit, "let's say that you saving kittens counts for this song. Let's count everything you just said, even though it's completely obvious you're just _reaching_ for evidence that isn't even really there, this song _still_ isn't about us! Songs are meant for couples who _like_ each other, for people who are dating or friends, and we're _not_ friends!"

Cartman sighed loudly and shook his head. "You just have to listen to the song again, Kahl. I had to listen to it ten thousand times before I realized it, and I know if you listen to it and actually, really hear the words, you'll know it, and you'll get it, you just have to listen to it ag--"

"No I don't!"

Cartman pressed play anyway and the song started up again, and he turned the volume up so that they would practically have to yell in order to hear each other.

"Dammit Cartman!" Kyle snapped, smacking a palm to his forehead. Why was he acting so weird? Why was he so obsessive about them having a song anyway? "You can't just pick a song because it has one or two lines that are like us in real life! It's gotta be about how you feel about someone, too!"

"I did, Kahl, please, listen to me, listen to the lyrics, I really, _really--"_

"No you _didn't!_ This has nothing to do with what you feel about me! You _puke_ when you _see_ me!" Kyle had been standing beside the door up until this point, when he started storming over to Cartman. "Besides, songs aren't picked because oh someone thinks the song has one or two things in it that might reflect their relationship, it's picked because something important happens, something like--like the first time something happened or whatever!"

Cartman tilted his head to the side, as if he just realized something.

"Just turn off my CD player and get out!" Kyle ordered, barely a foot from his face, pointing his finger at the door.

"I'm not gonna turn off this song until you--"

"Fine, I'll do it," he snapped, and pushed Cartman aside so he could do as he said he would. Cartman grabbed his shoulders, pulled him away from the CD player, and crushed his lips to Kyle's.

Kyle's eyes were wide open, so he could see that Cartman's lids were squeezed shut. His podgy fingers were digging into Kyle's arms, holding him there. At first, Kyle was outraged. How _dare_ he just kiss him like that? After the initial shock and anger wore off (which didn't really take as long as it should have) he realized that Cartman kinda had soft lips.

Cartman pulled away, and took a step back. He let out a yelp and flinched, lifting his arms in front of his face, like he was going to ward off Kyle's attacks.

Kyle just blinked stupidly at him. His heart was beating faster than he could really remember it ever beating, his stomach was practically doing cartwheels, and his chest was so tight he had to breath shallowly. Cartman had kissed him, and his flu-like symptoms had returned. But Kyle was starting to suspect that maybe he wasn't really physically sick in the first place. But he was starting to consider that his mental health wasn't quite up to par . . .

Cartman slowly lowered his hands when he realized Kyle wasn't going to punch him. The song, which had faded from Kyle's mind for a moment, came rushing back to him.

"Um . . ." was all Kyle could think to say. Well, not really, but it was either that, or he was going to ask Cartman to kiss him again, and he just couldn't do that.

Cartman shuffled on the spot, his eyes flitting around the room. "Um . . . I puked 'cause I realized . . . I don't hate you . . ."

Kyle frowned. "Huh?"

Cartman sighed, then turned the volume down a little bit. "Well, at first I was sick because the song was about loving a Jew which . . . Well, obviouslah that would make me sick. But then I kept thinking about you, and the song, and then you came into the bathroom, and . . . And I've had this flu, and I thought I was sick, but it was _you_ that was making me sick, and . . . and I realized I kinda . . ._ didn't_ hate you . . ."

Kyle swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat.

Cartman took a step forward. "Maybe, uh . . . If _you_ were hiding behind a bookshelf, and I knew about it . . . I _might_ not rat on you."

Kyle wasn't stupid. He understood the implications of that sentence. He understood that Cartman might have second thoughts about handing him specifically over to Hitler, but wouldn't give a rat's ass about any other Jew. It really wasn't that romantic, but . . . well, coming from Cartman, it wasn't _not_ romantic, either.

Kyle nodded slowly. "I think maybe I kinda don't hate you either."

Cartman's smile practically lit up the room. "Really?" Kyle looked downward and mumbled, but purposely not loud enough for him to hear. "I'm sorry, Kahl, what was that you said?" he taunted.

He turned his face upward, knowing his cheeks were a bright red, but he wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger. He was a bit surprised at how close Cartman's face was. "I said 'yes, really.'"

Cartman nodded. "Sweet."

He kissed Kyle again, but this time, Kyle leaned into it, and realized that the swooping in his stomach didn't make him sick at all, but instead, elated.

* * *

A/N--"That guy from that TV show" is James Marsters, who plays guitar and sings in the band. Also, there was a reference to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ in Garrison's class, which of course, belongs to Joss Whedon. This is my first _South Park_ fanfic, so reviews (whether they be praise or constructive criticism) are appreciated! Also, you may notice lack of tongue in the kiss. That was done on purpose. Heavy making out just didn't seem right, since they _are_ only nine. This is only a one-shot, so there will be no sequel.


End file.
